


morningstar

by darkavengerz (darkavenger)



Series: Matt's loosely connected fics about Laura and Daken [3]
Category: Avengers Academy, Marvel, X-23 (Comic)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:38:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkavenger/pseuds/darkavengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura lets out a long breath. “What are you doing here?” It disturbs her that she had not noticed he was here until she was already inside the room. His ability to mask his scent might have been able to fool her nose, but she should have noticed the extra heartbeat, should have realised it was coming from her room. She is getting sloppy. </p><p>“Can't an older brother drop by for a visit?” Daken says lightly, trailing his fingers over the photo frames on her bedside table; pictures of her and Gambit, her and Jubilee, her and Logan. He pauses when he reaches the one of her and Logan, then, with a flick of the wrist which could almost be accidental, sends it clattering to the floor. “Whoops,” he says softly, a faint smile curling at his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	morningstar

**Author's Note:**

> Brief, non-explicit reference to Laura's self-harm. Normal warnings for Daken being a creepy little shit. Title once again taken from an AFI song.

The next time Laura sees Daken, he is standing in her bedroom.

Laura stares silently for a beat, then closes the door behind her quickly, before Finesse can notice there is someone else inside.

“Laura?” Finesse’s voice carries, muffled slightly by the door between them. They'd been walking back to their rooms after an afternoon spent sparring together in the training room.

“I am going to change Finesse, I will see you at dinner,” Laura says. She is still frozen, staring at Daken who stares nonchalantly back, like he has every right to be here. She hears Finesse hesitate, floorboards creaking faintly under her feet as she shifts.

Laura's behaviour is rude, and while Finesse is less interested in social niceties than the rest of her team mates there is still a note of annoyance in Finesse’s voice when she replies.“Fine. I'll see you at dinner.” Finesse pauses a moment longer ( _waiting?_ ), then Laura hears her footsteps lead off, leaving Laura and Daken alone.

Laura lets out a long breath. “What are you doing here?” It disturbs her that she had not noticed he was here until she was already inside the room. His ability to mask his scent might have been able to fool her nose, but she should have noticed the extra heartbeat, should have realised it was coming from her room. She is getting sloppy. She curls her fingers into her palm, digs her nails in just a little, the dull pain a brief promise of the lesson she will teach herself later for letting herself be caught unawares by Daken.

“Can't an older brother drop by for a visit?” he says lightly, trailing his fingers over the photo frames on her bedside table; pictures of her and Gambit, her and Jubilee, her and Logan. He pauses when he reaches the one of her and Logan, then, with a flick of the wrist which could almost be accidental, sends it clattering to the floor. “Whoops,” he says softly, a faint smile curling at his lips.

“No,” Laura says tensely, fighting to keep her voice level. “You do not visit me. You do not visit me _here._ ” She moves jerkily across the room, and bends to grab the photo, aware that she is making herself briefly vulnerable by exposing the back of her neck to Daken. The glass is cracked and she has to catch herself from letting out a vexed, unhappy sound. She keeps her face blank, tries to contain her anger at his intrusion and hopes he cannot smell it on her, tries to be the empty machine they trained her to be.

“Aw, how _sweet_. You're worried for your little friends,” Daken smirks, sitting down on her bed. He looks out of place, dressed impeccably in a suit that Emma Frost probably could not have faulted, in Laura's small room with its bare, drab walls and institutional furniture.

“Do not hurt them,” Laura says, almost snarls. She has not been at the Academy long, but already she finds the thought of harm befalling any of the students there unbearable, especially if it was to happen on account of her. There's a trail of blood and bodies behind her; she does not want any more added.

“You couldn't stop me,” Daken says, still smiling. His eyes are cold though, watchful. He wants to see her react. “You know that, don't you Laura? I would kill them while you slept and pile their bodies by your bed. Would you like that, hmm?” His smile widens, until she can see the white of his teeth glint in the evening light. “But I won't. There's no fun in killing something that defenceless.”

Laura finds her voice. “They are not defenceless. They are stronger than you know.”

“Maybe,” Daken says carelessly, leaning back against her headboard and pulling his legs onto her bed, his shoes on her covers. “Do you mind?” he raises an eyebrow, a mockery of polite concern.

Laura doesn't speak, stands impotently by. Part of her wishes he would just draw his claws and take an honest swing at her. She would know how to deal with that.

“It doesn't matter,” Daken continues, clearly giving up on waiting on her response. “How strong they are I mean. At the end of the day, they are nothing compared to me. Nothing compared to us, Laura. You see that, don't you?” He sounds earnest for once, holding her gaze. “They are _nothing._ Broken toys cast aside. Even the mighty Avengers are ashamed of them.” He sneers, face briefly ugly with hate before it relaxes into its normal deceptively pleasant exterior. “You are so much better than them. You could be so much more, Laura.” He stands, in one fluid movement, uncomfortably close and still utterly without scent. It's like standing next to a ghost. “You should be by my side.” He rests a hand on her shoulder, in a gesture that might be considered affectionate if she could forget about his claws. The dying sunlight paints his skin gold, reflects in his eyes like burning embers. “Join me.”

“No,” Laura says, stepping back. The refusal is easy, automatic. She made her choice long ago. His hand slides off her shoulder, drops to his side. She tells herself she imagines the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Why?” He sounds honestly perplexed, as if he cannot fathom why she does not want to go back to a life of murder and deceit. “What can these people offer you that I can't? Friendship?” His mouth twists on the word, spits it out like it's rancid. “Forgiveness?” He laughs hollowly at that, turns away from her and moves to the window. “There is no forgiveness for people like us, Laura.”

“I am not -” Laura begins, but he cuts her off.

“Yes you are. You can pretend otherwise, but I can prove it.” His hand moves to his pocket, and he pulls out a small glass vial. “One drop of this, and all your self-deceptions would be stripped away. One drop of this and _you_ would be the one to kill your friends.”

A desperate snarl bursts from Laura's lips, white-hot rage consumes her and she lunges wildy for the vial, claws ripping free.  _How dare he?!_

He doesn't move out of her path, just grins through their collision. She slams him against the wall with brutal strength, pins his unresisting hands to the wall with her claws. The vial drops, bounces harmlessly on the floor and rolls to a halt by her boot. “That's my girl,” Daken says breathlessly, melodious voice harsh with pain. Blood drips from his hands as he hangs, limply submissive. “I knew I could find you.”

She bares her teeth, feral, in his face. “You are a monster,” she tells him fiercely. “You would drug me, turn me into a mindless creature because  _that_ is the only way to get me to be like you.”

Daken just smiles, relentlessly, remorselessly. “Oh I don't need chemicals for that. Look at you, Laura. You're ready to kill me.”

Laura glares, considers, for a moment, all the different ways she had been taught to kill. She doubts any of the facility's methods would put Daken down permanently, but they might stop him smiling for a while. Slowly, she retracts her claws. Daken lets out an almost inaudible hiss of pain as she does, and she can't deny the warmth of pleasure that sound kindles inside her. She steps back, reaches for the vial.

“It's just water,” Daken says. 

She picks up the vial. The liquid within is colourless, but then so is the trigger scent. Carefully, she eases the stopper out just a little and sniffs.

“Like I said,” Daken says, straightening his cuffs, “just water. Did you really think I'd carry around a vial of that trigger scent?” He looks down at his hands, at the blood pooling in his palms. “See, Laura? We both like control. We both dislike those who would try and take our control away, and we attack those people both viciously and mercilessly.”

“Why do you want me to join you?” Laura asks, pushing the stopper firmly back in. She does not trust Daken to not have double-bluffed her.

Daken hesitates fractionally. Laura sees the uncertainty cross his face. He had not been expecting her to question why. “Because we belong together.”

“Why?” she presses, stepping forward. For once she is the one pursuing him. “Because we are blood? Is that why, Daken? Because we both share _his_ blood?” She can see the fear in Daken's eyes, even if that smile is still fixed to his face. “Do you want a family so badly, Daken?”

“No,” he says, almost snarls, and she smiles because she has won. She sees the anger on his face, bright as a naked flame and burning just as hot. He turns abruptly, aware of her eyes on his face, aware she sees him far more clearly than he sees her. His hands clench on the window sill, and he glances down, at the broken snow-globe that Kiden gave her last visit. The glass glints in the last of the daylight, shimmers like diamonds to Laura. From the contemptuous look on Daken's face it's nothing but trash to him.

“I don't _need_ you at all, Laura,” he says, spitting each word like a bullet, with care and precision, aiming to hurt. “No one _needs_ you, Laura. No one at all. You have no family, not even Wolverine. You were made in a tube. You came from nothing, from no one. I asked you to join me because I see your potential, because I see your lack of ties as liberating, but now I see I was wrong.” He turns from the window and strides to the door. “You belong here, with the rest of the worthless human waste.”

He leaves quietly, smiling with false serenity, too proud to slam the door behind him like the rage in him demands. Laura has no doubt that he can leave without being seen as easily as he came. She realises that she's trembling, wonders if it is with fear or anger, then realises she is smiling and the feeling welling up inside her is triumph. The quiet lasts only moments.

“Laura?” Someone knocks at the door, Finesse. “It's time for dinner, are you coming?”

“One moment,” Laura calls, looking round to make sure Daken has left no visible sign of his presence. She sees the blood spots on the carpet, the holes in the plaster from their fight. “I'll join you there.”

“Fine,” Finesse says, once more sounding vaguely annoyed for reasons Laura can't quite work out.

 

It isn't until Laura joins Finesse in the canteen that she remembers she had told the other girl she meant to change before dinner, and it's obvious from the look on Finesse's face that she remembers too, but it's Finesse, so she doesn't ask why Laura lied, just files it away for future reference and slides over on the bench to make room for her. Laura feels like she's almost gotten away with everything, when Reptil speaks up.

“So, did you have someone over earlier? I thought I heard a man's voice coming from your room.” The question is casual, but she can scent his curiosity. The rest of the table goes quiet, and everyone looks at her. They have so far been generally accepting of her oddities, and she is grateful for that, but like all the other teenagers she has met, they like to gossip.

“No way,” says Hazmat loudly, jaw dropping. “Did Laura sneak her boyfriend in?”

“I don't have a boyfriend,” Laura replies, hoping to end the discussion.

“Who was it then?” Reptil asks again, all friendly curiosity.

Laura stalls for a moment, taking a bite of her food. She doesn't know what to say, doesn't want to lie to these people who might be her friends, but it's better if they don't know about Daken.

“She was watching training tapes,” Finesse says abruptly. Everyone looks at her, including Laura. Finesse neatly cuts a slice of her steak, continues coolly. “I thought it would be beneficial for her to see our practice tapes, to learn how we fight as a team.”

Hazmat groans at that. “Great, she gets to see us make fools of ourselves. Thanks, Finesse.”

“No problem,” Finesse says dryly. The conversation moves on. Laura stays quiet, she feels Finesse's gaze on her face and wonders why she lied for her. 

 

After dinner she avoids Finesse and heads for her room, decides to get an early night. Today has been disturbing and she finds herself tired, yet when she lies herself down on the bed she is unable to sleep. Daken was sat here, only hours ago. She shivers, although it's still not cold, wonders if she should have told Hank Pym or Tigra about his visit. She does not want to imagine their reaction. It is too late to tell them now, they would want to know why she did not come to them sooner, why she did not raise the alarm when she found him in her bedroom.

Laura rolls onto her side, buries her face in her pillow, searching for comfort. She inhales and goes cold. Sitting up, she presses the pillow to her face and sniffs. There; it's faint, but present. Daken's scent clings to the fabric like faded perfume, hangs in the air like the moonlight that falls through her window. She closes her eyes and commits the scent to memory. The scent is subtle; strange and delicate while simultaneously familiar. Did he choose to leave his scent? Was it a conscious decision, left to taunt her with the reminder of his defilement of her privacy? Or was it a subconscious error? Was there some small part of Daken sick of his deceit? There's no way to tell. His laughter seems to echo in her ears, mocking and elusive. She lies back down. Tomorrow she'll change the sheets. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
